Web of Lies (Page 59)

Mab’s guests wanted. Those guys and girls who went home with one of Mab’s guests for the night would be generously compensated after the fact. All outstanding bills, hospital and otherwise, would be paid in full by Mab.

The man with the clipboard jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Go on in."

One of the giants pinched my ass as I walked past.

Although I wanted nothing more than to palm one of my silverstone knives and slit his throat for putting his hand on me, I deepened my smile.

"Now, now." I waggled my finger at him. "I’m here for the guests, sugar. Not the hired help."

His face flushed at my insult. The giant stepped forward, but the other one put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"She’s right," the second man rumbled. "Mab will be pissed if you touch her. Remember what she did to Stevenson last time? Do you want that to be you?"

The giant paled. Evidently, whatever Mab Monroe had done to Stevenson had made an impression on the rest of her guards. The giant shot me a sour look, but he stepped back. I winked at him and headed inside the mansion.

The insane shriek of the stones washed over me again, so loud the spider rune scars on my hands itched from the sound of it. But I gritted my teeth and pushed the noise away, buried it so deep that it was nothing more than a murmur in my head. I needed to concentrate on my mission, not wonder what Mab Monroe had done in her own house to make it sound like that.

A hallway that was at least a hundred feet wide cut through the center of the massive mansion. Despite the relatively early hour, the party was in full swing. The trill of laughter and the murmur of conversation resonated through the house, low and mellow, like hidden cicadas cooing in the tall grass in the summertime. It helped drown out the stones’ insane shrieking.

During my years as an assassin, I’d gotten close to a lot of wealthy, powerful, influential folks. As a general rule, the richer a person, the stingier he was with his money.

Finnegan Lane agreed with my observation. He often regaled me with tales about his billionaire vampire clients who bought cases of off-brand toothpaste at the nearest Sell-Everything so they could save a measly five cents a tube.

But not Mab Monroe.

The Fire elemental hadn’t skimped on anything in her mansion. Not a thing. White marble coated the floors like glossy varnish, while gold and bronze leaf glittered on the ornate cathedral ceilings a hundred feet above my head.

Genuine Tiffany lamps lined the hallway like soldiers, the hidden bulbs sending out sprays of jewel-tone colors through their stained-glass shades. A few lights glowed in the various rooms that branched off the hallway, illuminating delicate antique furniture from a variety of eras.

Everything in the house was tasteful and expensive, whispering of casual elegance that looked effortless, though it had cost a pretty penny to procure. I might have been momentarily dazzled by it, if the shrieking stone of the mansion hadn’t told me exactly how Mab had gotten the money to pay for all this finery – and all the nasty things she’d done in here since.

I walked on, passing dozens of people. Silk, satin, crushed velvet. Everyone sported their Sunday best evening gown or tuxedo. Nothing less would do for one of Mab Monroe’s parties. In addition to the stone of the mansion, I could also hear the whispers of the gemstones the men and women wore on their necks, wrists, fingers, and even toes. Beauty, elegance, fire. But even the grandest diamond’s vibration paled in comparison to the singing clarity of the one I’d seen in Tobias Dawson’s safe.

Oh yes, the dwarf could make quite the fortune mining and selling the diamonds on Warren Fox’s land to this highfalutin crowd.

I recognized more than a few of the faces I passed.

Some, I’d done jobs for. For others, I’d assassinated parents, brothers, sisters, or business partners for whatever reason. Some were Mab’s sycophants, her loyal subjects.

Others would have been happy to spit on her corpse, dance a jig on her grave, and then set about trying to take the Fire elemental’s place as Ashland’s queen bee.

I didn’t speak to anyone, but men and woman stared at me as I passed. Their eyes caught on the silver rune around my throat, then slid down my body, as thought I were a cut of meat they were thinking about getting from the butcher. According to Finn, I looked like a real, live, f**kable Barbie doll, thanks to Roslyn’s clothes and long blond wig. I’d barely recognized myself when I’d looked in the mirror earlier.

But I didn’t meet anyone’s gaze and walked on as if I hadn’t noticed there was anyone else in the mansion at all. I wasn’t here to attract their attention. Tobias Dawson was my target, and I had no intention of getting sidetracked or propositioned by anyone else.

The main hallway led out into a grand ballroom. Although grand really wasn’t the right word for the enormous space, which served as the junction for the three wings of the mansion. It featured a golden parquet floor, tiled here and there with marble, granite, and sheets of hammered bronze. Chandeliers dangled from the ceiling.

Some glowed with rubies and diamonds. Others burned with garnets and topaz. A staircase that was several hundred feet wide lay at the opposite end of the ballroom, its pristine scarlet carpet stretching up to the second floor and beyond.

More than three hundred of Mab Monroe’s closest business associates talked and laughed and drank on the ballroom floor, their clusters and cliques not even coming close to filling the massive space. They reminded me of dolls that might populate a child’s playhouse.

Pretty and polished with fake smiles that stretched their painted, plastic faces to the breaking point. But I looked beyond the elegant veneer of the people and furnishings.

Despite the rich sophistication on display, I noticed other things, things that weren’t as nice as they appeared at first glance.

Like the giants circulating throughout the ballroom.

Given the platters of champagne, caviar, and quail’s eggs they supported on their enormous hands, you might have thought them nothing more than waiters. But I knew what they were really here for – crowd control, in case folks got stupid and drunk enough to start turning on each other. I imagined Mab Monroe wouldn’t cotton to a couple of tipsy elementals deciding to stage a magical duel in her ballroom.

That’s how elementals usually fought, by flinging their raw magic at each other, until one person succumbed to the other’s power. When two elementals clashed, the inevitable loser could suffer everything from catching Fire, to getting encased in Ice, to having her heart turned to Stone, or even being flayed alive by the very Air she breathed. Depending, of course, on the type of elemental she was fighting. And this wasn’t even counting all the other folks who had talents for things like metal, water, and electricity.